


Fool’s Mate

by Charllllotte



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20335015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charllllotte/pseuds/Charllllotte
Summary: Moments Sylvain and Felix shared in their lives --When Sylvain realized the next "accident" could send him to the Goddess and tried to leave something behind;When they sit in the professor's tactic class with other Blue Lions;When they made a stand in a war.Set before and during the timeskip.Minor spoilers about Gautier brothers' relationship, Dimitri's experience during the timeskip,  and references to Dimitri+Felix' Support B conversation.





	1. 1169

In the House of Gautier, two things were valued above all: patience and decisiveness. For hundreds of years they had been the first and last stand against the vast North, dark skerry against crushing tides that kept coming back. A Gautier had to know when to endure and when to strike, when a cause was lost and the worst must be prepared for.

Heir or not, Miklan were bred to these virtues. So was Sylvain.

So his plan had gone well, at least at first. 

Ingrid had always kept a skeptical eye in case he did something stupid. But the fair Lady Galatea trusted him alright, if with more amusement than seriousness. With her help he was able to slip into Ingrid’s room and left his sword under her closet – the real one, forged to celebrate his birth. Also a bunch of weights, since he’d slack training sessions anyway and a knight, lady or not, could certainly have use for them; and graffiti in one of her knight stories so that he wouldn’t be terribly missed.

Dimitri titled his head questioningly, looked more like a doll than ever with golden strands kept falling to those innocent blue eyes. Sylvain knew the prince held no particular interest in music, but he also knew he was far too kind to turn down a “birthday gift” from a friend. Besides, Dimitri would whole-heartedly agree to let Ingrid have all those training gears too, yes? And who would know? Maybe one day he’d finally meet someone he just couldn’t impress without a flute. 

Glenn… Glenn was too tricky, Sylvain decided wryly, he’d have to share with Felix.

And Felix, it turned out, was the ultimate challenge. Sylvain would leave the younger boy everything he had, simple as that. Yet the more he thought about it, the more acutely he became aware: maybe the heir of Margrave Gautier did own a thing or two, but “Sylvain” didn’t, not even himself. Worse, he knew what waning patience looked like and that he’d be running out of time soon.

When it was time to meet with his friends in Fhirdiad again, he gave up and took the chess set. 

It was one of his favorite things back home. The pieces were carved with lines that flew, made from obsidian dark as night and wood that heavy as iron, white as bone. The board with a warm sheen was so smooth to touch, upon which all things felt real yet didn’t really matter. He knew it had to be a gift, for such a beautiful thing was almost too polished to be owned by their house. But the Margrave had only played twice with him all those years, so Sylvain couldn’t imagine he’d mind. And Miklan would call him a thief anyway.

It was still a sound plan. As a young boy trying to catch up with Faerghus’ future First Knight, Felix rarely wanted to sit down for a board game. But beauty of simplicity might please him; and Sylvain was sure he could first get Dimitri invested… 

Alas, just as foretold, Felix was indeed his ultimate challenge. The boy wanted to know why.

For the record, Sylvain came prepared. He knew how to bait a response and his smile was light-hearted as ever. But when Felix lifted that small, round face to look at him, Sylvain had to take a safer bet by pulling the boy into a hug, if only to hide away from his bright eyes. 

“Nothing, just a random thought! If I went somewhere far away and you happened to miss biiiiiig brother Sylv, it’s nice to have something from me right? ”

Felix never quite agreed to this “big brother Sylv” deal, but apparently he had more pressing matters at hand than to protest.

“Don’t.” The boy’s voice was muffled in the redhead’s chest, but obviously, still a heartfelt complaint, “House Gautier is already too far…”

Sylvain smiled despite himself. He was ruffling the boy’s raven hair playfully, when Felix suddenly froze, and then started pushing away in earnest.

“Whoa, whoa … “

Surprised, he let go of the other boy, only to find him so upset all of a sudden that he might as well be hit by … something massive and messy. Eyes brimmed with tears, Felix furiously bit his lower lip and glared at Sylvain. 

“Felix…wha…are you OK? ”

The moment was stretched into a horrifying length as Sylvain watched the younger boy struggled with himself, trying to speak without crying.

“… you are going to die!? Why?!” When he finally burst out, accusingly, the boy’s nose and cheeks had all turned red and he was panting. 

Sylvain was more than a little taken aback. He had to blink several times before putting on that oblivious smile of his, “No! Felix… it’s ridiculous! What are you thinking?”

However it did not work. Never had worked and, though he didn’t know at that time, never would. Sylvain could not tell if it was Felix’ gift or curse to see through things, or he just couldn’t keep his guard quite as up around this friend. 

“You are…no, please… Glenn to-told me…people just say the dead went somewhere far away…but it’s … it’s not a place you can go, visit. I can’t visit dead you …please…”

Instead of calming down, Felix took his left arm in both hands and pleaded. Those tears, at last, started to fall.

“Please…don’t die… don’t without me…”

…Of course it was Glenn, who saw it fit to explain “death” to his six-year-old brother. And because it was Glenn, he sure as damn had told Felix that shields protected till they shatter, and Fraldarius stood in harm’s way till their last breath.

Sylvain felt a lump in his throat. He wanted to curse…or to cry, but could do neither. Tentatively, he reached out, wrapping shaking arms around Felix again and this time the boy, too consumed by grief to protest, let him. Ever so generous, he even let Sylvain lean on him, while he clenched the redhead’s shirt, now soaked with tears. 

“I won’t… I promise. ” Sylvain barely managed to choke those words out, but he meant it, with a determination so intense he never knew he could muster, “We’ll die together.”

And it was Sylvain’s heart that felt Felix nodding.


	2. 1180

“Sylvain?”

The redhead winced inwardly. 

Being called out in a military simulation class wasn’t his favorite thing to begin with, not to mention his classmates’ discussion on this particular battle had already become quite heated. He was staying outside the ring for a reason, thank you very much professor.

But they’d all learned to read the no-longer-so-stony face of their infamous “Ashen Demon” by now. Besides that encouraging look of “let’s see what you’ve got”, Sylvain suspected he also saw something akin to “those board games cost 1000G each”…

Very well, then. 

He drew closer and leaned over Felix’ shoulder. The latter, whose retreat route to training grounds now got completely blocked, sent Sylvain an icy glare that knew his intention all too well, but didn’t complain or move. The redhead grinned while giving the map table a better look.

Without doubt, it was the most complicated scenario they’d encountered so far. Urban warfare had always been tricky, and this time the defense was supposedly very well prepared: ballistae, magic canons, dragon and Pegasus knights and all those good stuff one could think of; though he couldn’t imagine their ex-mercenary professor would show them all the cards just yet.

Sylvain pondered for a moment, weighing his options to contribute just enough, so he could get a pass. It didn’t took them long to figure out a certain dark knight would be the first in command. But even if taking him – or her, a lady as evil as she was foxy, Sylvain decided, because why not? – out would paralyze the entire system, they would still have to close the distance first. And in this case, such distance happened to be the whole heavy guarded battlefield. 

Looked like a trap and smelled like one too. Still, it was sufficiently challenging for his purpose. His classmates could take it from there.

Nodding to himself, Sylvain reached out for a marble colored dice on the table that represented a winged unit- with all pieces in a chess set enlisted as defense, they had to get creative with tokens. He was able to spot a route to send in someone - not exactly a shortcut, but with enough cover to be at least somewhat realistic. However, since pitting a Pegasus against mages was such a common practice, there were enough counter measures in place as well.

“These ballistae have same specs as standard Garreg Mach models, yes? Then on a normal day the fire support would cover…”

“This area, if accuracy is taken into account. If not, up to here.” Ashe pointed on the map, quietly but confidently – he’d gotten much better about these calculations from study sessions with Annette, who lightened up happily and offered the range of magic canons too. 

Taking in the information, Sylvain studied the map more carefully, and sighed, “Nah, this wouldn’t do.” Only an extremely good and lucky Pegasus knight might be able to pull this off – that is, remain ‘functional’ with limited scratches when they finally reached the dark knight. Alas, he should have known their professor wouldn’t prepare an easy out in situation like this…

Lost in thought, he was a little startled when Ingrid snatched the dice he was unconsciously playing between fingers, and nearly slammed it on the table. A Falcon knight in training and his friend since childhood, she didn’t need too many hints to track his train of thought.

“Why not? I can totally do it!” 

Sylvain had to bite back an even heavier sigh. There were dices, flowers, buttons and dagger on the table to represent different units that, not coincidentally, matched professions of all students inside this room. Not a difficult job at all to tell which was who. And this was exactly why he’d rather skip those tactic lessons, no matter how much he enjoyed the intellectual aspect of a game. He knew that someday, his obligations as the future Margrave Gautier might well include playing chess with the precious lives of people. As horrifying as it got, he really didn’t want to bear witness to any familiar faces on a board, at least not when he could help it, at least not for now. 

But he also didn’t know how to persuade his friend, both brave and stubborn, without dampening the whole class’ spirit. 

Luckily, another friend came to his rescue. 

“Sylvain has a point. “ Dimitri said thoughtfully. His dagger was placed in front of the formation with determination of the steel, leading and protecting, “No matter how capable, there’s just so much a single person can accomplish. Taking out the commander isn’t necessarily winning the war. To oversee that will endanger all allies and ourselves. ” 

“But it’s the best shot we’ve got so far!” Ingrid insisted. Ten times out of ten, she would prefer a frontal attack over an assassination like this, but all that calculation about casualties really got on her nerves, “Risky, reckless – I don’t care. Worth trying to save everyone!” 

“I can hold the line here, “even Dedue joined this discussion,” should buy you some time… to try.” He said without looking up from the map. Ingrid seemed a little taken aback at that, but then nodded and murmured “thanks”. 

Sylvain exchanged glances with Dimitri. It was nice to see these two working together, but now the prince and him were bested in number: Mercedes never chose sides, but neither Ashe nor Annette would let go a chance to “save everyone”. 

He almost shrugged and said "whatever" - easier than searching for an alternative even if there was one. After all, it was just a simulation, and Sylvain had always been one of the most easy-going people in the Academy by reputation. But he wouldn't want to leave Dmitri alone...

And then he felt - rather than actually heard - a chuckle from Felix. The swordmaster, even when he sounded amused, still had his way to cut all the clutters like a blade.

“Fool. If you are that worried, go create diversion.”

Calloused fingers flipped an indigo dice that must be himself. And not surprisingly at all, it landed right in the thick of defense. 

...Damn House Fraldarius and their ideal of shield. 

It was not a wrong theory – not at all; but if their professor wanted to work Sylvain beyond his normal wit in class, this was much, much too effective.

“Alright, alright!! Give me some time to think this through, shall we??” He exclaimed, pulled out a chair to sit next to Dimitri, who gave him a knowing pat that numbed his right shoulder. 

Grimacing, Sylvain put down his black dice next to Felix’. This time he was playing to win.


	3. 1183

He was no longer the last one standing.

Silent as a silhouette, the dark knight regarded him. Sound and color all but drown in the unforgiving rain.

For an eternity in a moment, when the battle frenzy slowly faded away, and instinctive reactions started to make space for actual thoughts again, the intensity of that gaze seemed to be the only connection between Felix and this world. So he felt … an odd dizziness, as the chevalier’s pale feature suddenly beamed with a boyish smile and a breathy greeting: “Lord Rodrigues said hi!”

Looking upwards to speak in a downpour was his worst decision in a while. With all the water rushing his way, Master Fraldarius the Younger, fearsome swordmaster and grappler, a legend dawning on the  
battlefield, actually choked. Of course it made the redhead burst out laughing, louder even than all the pitter-patter his not-so-shiny-armor was making in the curtain of rain. 

“Sylvain you insufferable idiot!” Felix didn’t know exactly how, but he did manage to yell between coughing violently for his dear life, and being annoyed while also laughing, “Find the tent!”

That was the first time they saw each other face to face, since the fall of Garreg Mach. Years later, in the midst of war. Yet somehow, they still fell into familiar routine like clockwork. 

They shared meal with soldiers, before retreated to Felix’ tent for the night. The rain temporarily kept at bay, his swords in dire needs for attention after today’s battle were finally taken care of, and for once, Felix the lone wolf was willing to be the chattier one.

“You look happy.” He observed, although he didn’t miss all the tolls taken on his friend either.

“I am. “ Sylvain stretched his long legs lazily, so content that he almost purred the reply. “Happy. Considering the circumstances -”

A war was raging on, as was a storm; people were forced to leave their lives behind; and the gambeson drying with his body heat was a dead weight. But Sylvain was sitting next to his best friend again, by a fire. There were few things in the world he would trade this moment for. 

“By the way, the Margrave also sent his regards.” He did, though, wish he could say “his troops” instead, however meager they might be in the face of the Imperial Army.

Felix nodded in understanding. He could use every bit of enforcement but also knew better. The past few weeks had seen sleets after sleets and no one with as much as a pinch of sanity would risk passage through the mountains. But the crazy redhead who just did wasn’t quite finished yet.

“So now you are officially stuck with his best of best -” He trailed off with a smirk, straightened just enough for an exaggerated bow, “Sylvain Jose Gautier, at your service.” 

Felix chuckled despite himself, half surprised by how easy it felt, almost like thawing - for some reason Sylvain’s company tended to have that effect on him. “Officially, huh? “ He mocked the other, although with no real barbs or bite, “Is it really the Margrave? Or whatever you made him smoke?”

“Well, I am still my house’s best chance of an heir right now, remember?” Sylvain shrugged, sounded perfectly innocent and cheerful, “Technically speaking, anyway. Guess what? That’s some leverage even with His Lordship!”

But that was enough to make Felix narrow his eyes, sobering: Sylvain was growing out of it, true, but his crest was still the very last card he’d play even in desperation. Always one preferring deeds over words, the swordmaster grabbed him by the collar and stared into those amber eyes for a clue.

Given their history since childhood, it wasn’t a difficult read. 

“So he considered this war a lost cause.” 

The redhead opened his mouth to say something, but quickly thought better. He had always been good with comforting, even entertaining lies, but Felix would have none. “He’s not wrong, Sylvain, and you know that. My old man,” he added bitterly, “knows that, too.”

The last of Blaiddyd had gone for some time. Beheaded, to be more accurate, or so they were told in their own posts. The way things stood, what they were fighting tooth and nail now, was for a kingdom that had no king, with what little left of it, and against the rest of it. In a game of chess or a war, such irony was doomed beyond salvation.

His father was the shield of one Faerghus that was no more; and Felix himself lived by the sword. This fight belonged to them, if not the other way around. Sylvain, however, chose to pick up his lance for things more approachable than an ideal: friends, family, and people that he regarded as individuals rather than subjects. He should seek his fate elsewhere.

“Hey, Felix, stop. “Sylvain patted the other’s cheeks, and yanked away just in time. Apparently, the easy read had gone both ways. “This war is not going anywhere, I’ll give you that. But so was the one with Sreng. And my house have been fighting it since the hero Gautier himself- it just took a while to get used to, is all!“

Now his smile was sincere…sincerely sly, Felix sighed, perhaps the first one he’d let out since everything started falling apart. 

Sylvain chuckled. Despite what he normally let on, there was a sharp mind beneath that red hair. “You are still here, aren’t you? Don’t tell me it’s for the fight. You’d have twice as much fun on the Empress’ side.”

“….You got me there. “ The swordmaster admitted quietly, frowning, “I just…can’t believe he…it’s gone.” 

He knew Sylvain would laugh at how stubborn he was with the way to address the boar. Still, it was good to actually hear it: a lower version of the hearty sound Felix found himself missing from time to time, but worked just fine. 

“Then don’t. “ The redhead cleared his throat with affected solemnness, “As the proud witnesses of the sword snapping legend in the House of Fraldarius – “

“– We could at least stand by it. “ Felix finished for him, smiling as well. He brought their foreheads together to whisper, in a hushed tone not unlike a prayer, “So stay safe, Sylvain.”

“And you, Felix, and you. “


End file.
